


A Not So Innocent Comment

by CollingwoodGirl



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 2x12, F/M, Handcuffs, PWP, policewoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollingwoodGirl/pseuds/CollingwoodGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You attempted to trade sexual favors for your release." she mock-accused him. "I have no choice but to take you into custody."<br/><em> <b>click </b></em> went the second cuff, binding his wrists behind him and tethering him to the bed frame.<br/>"I'm not entirely comfortable with this," he ground out.<br/>"That's the idea, Jack," she whispered, lips brushing his ear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was plagued by the idea of Phryne's comment about dressing as a policewoman in "Unnatural Habits" (and Jack's reaction to it). This is pure smut. And, probably not that well written. I just had to get it out of my head!  
>  
> 
> **But, consider this an open invitation / prompt to all of you delicious smut-writers - you know who you are: I want to read your version of Phryne in uniform! Because I'm as much a fan of MFMM fan fiction as anyone else.**

Miss Fisher had her outfit made especially for the occasion. She really wouldn't have been caught dead in an actual lady constable's uniform (the cheap wool chafed). So, she commissioned Madame Fleuri to help create her vision. Phryne had been very specific about this sartorial statement. It must balance the weight of authority with the sumptuousness of seduction.

The result was a breathtaking two-piece ensemble of rich, black velvet lined with midnight blue satin that felt absolutely decadent against the skin. The jacket was cut to highlight every curve and fastened with dozens of delicate brass buttons spaced half an inch apart from the neckline to the hem. Three thin stripes of the same dark blue satin highlighted her wrists with another smattering of brass buttons at the outside of each, for good measure. The skirt hugged her hips before flaring out from thigh to ankle and bore a slit cut off-center along the left that ran just past her knee.

Madame Fleuri observed her overjoyed client twirling in the ornate mirror after trying on the unusual creation. She could not have begun to understand the depths of The Honourable Miss Fisher's delight over the unusual ensemble. Had the couturier been a mind reader, she would have been scandalized at Miss Fisher's decidedly dishonorable thoughts at the moment.

The milliner had thought the lady's hat design was odd but, he was not in a position to object where a wealthy and loyal client was concerned. Lady constables did not wear the metal helmets that the men did - Phryne supposed the constabulary didn't think the fairer sex capable of scaling walls. The resulting black felt hat echoed the helmet in shape, but wasn't as tall. The illusion would be complete with black satin gloves, black heeled leather boots and the essential accessories.

Those had been harder to come by. Luckily, Miss Fisher was a resourceful woman and the deception was managed with a few well placed phone calls and several large picnic baskets filled to the brim for all the hard working men at City South Police Station. Dot had wondered why, after the surprise luncheon, Phryne had carried a seemingly empty basket up to her room and wisely decided that it was safer not to ask questions. With barely contained glee, Phryne lifted the pilfered items out of the basket and placed them in a heavy box that was stowed under her bed. The baton was hefty in her hands and she ran her fingers along the shaft, thinking positively indecent thoughts. Next, a set of small brass keys, which teasingly tinkled as she jiggled them in the air. Finally, she pulled out the darbys. Running her fingers around the hard metal circlets, she thought of his face - with all its sharp angles, warring with softness - and imagined his many possible reactions. All delicious. His body would be taut and hard with nerves and excitement. It was too much. She needed Jack tonight - even if she wasn't exactly ready to execute her plan. 

"Miss Fisher! Slow down! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"  
"I'm fine. I'm safe, Jack." Even in her desperation, she could sense his relief over the telephone line.  
"Jack?" Her voice was shaking.  
"Yes?"  
"I want you," she whispered hoarsely. "I don't care what time. Use your key."

Detective Inspector Jack Robinson felt his face burn. He wanted to speak but, it felt like he had swallowed fire. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, Miss Fisher had already disconnected the line. Praying for a quiet evening at the station, he tucked his chair further under his desk until he could regain control.

 

XXXXX

 

They lay, panting on her bed, still half-dressed - her need had been too great to wait for the trifle of removing clothes.  
"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" he asked her. A smile played on his lips and in his eyes as he carefully untied and removed his oxfords.  
"I was just... thinking about you and I got a bit carried away," Phryne explained in a dreamy voice, her eyes still closed.  
"A bit?" he teased her but there was a touch of disbelief in his tone. At this, she opened her eyes and looked into his. The wonder in his expression made it clear that Jack was still quite unused to the idea that he could arouse such intense feelings in her.

She kissed him soundly and curled up to him. They settled into comfortable pillow talk before she broached the idea that had been consuming her thoughts all day.  
"I like this tie," Phryne said, fingering the fabric. It was olive green with a navy and cream pattern.  
Jack's mouth couldn't help but twitch but, he did not say a word.  
"It reminds me of a ribbon I once had. Lifted, actually."  
That caught his attention. "You stole it?"  
"I was a bit light-fingered in those days," she reminisced. "Janey hated when I did it. She was always the good girl." A smile crossed her face at the memory.  
"Let me guess. You never got caught."  
"Only once. And, there had been hell to pay. My father asked the local sergeant to hold me overnight."  
"What? He had you locked up?"  
"It wasn't much worse than the cupboard, to be honest. It certainly didn't deter me from breaking the occasional rule."   
"That's an understatement." Jack tried to sound reproachful but both his eyebrow and the corner of his mouth lifted conspiratorially against him. She grinned cheekily at him in the darkness.  
"What about you, Jack?"  
"What about me, what?"   
"Have you ever been arrested?"  
He eyed her suspiciously. "N-no."  
"Not even a D and D during the war?" Phryne asked. Even the most honourable of servicemen discovered previously unknown wild streaks when they were granted a few days' reprieve from the battlefields.  
"Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Fisher."  
"Mmm. Not disappointed. A good boy is much more fun to corrupt," she teased, running a finger down the placket of his shirt. The gleam of desire was back in her eyes. "Now, let's off this tie properly."


	2. Chapter 2

"Dammit," Jack grumbled. He grappled with his flat key, attempting to force it into the lock. The Inspector had not had a good day. Besides the mountain of paperwork to slog through, he had processed three drunk and disorderlies because the desk sergeant called out, had to calm a distraught Mrs. Walker about her missing parakeet and interview an uncooperative piece of filth, whom he suspected was involved in a black market operation he and Collins were investigating. Thank goodness tomorrow was his day off. All he wanted to do was pass out on his bed and sleep himself into an oblivion. But, the lock would not budge.

He kicked the door jamb in frustration and a bright sliver of metal dislodged from the crevice. _The hell?_ Snatching up the silver pick, he examined it in the dim light of the hall when comprehension dawned. This had her hand all over it. From the very beginning, Phryne Fisher had delighted in toying with him. Her impulse had not calmed in the slightest - though, to be fair, neither had his enjoyment. What kind of game was Miss Fisher playing now? Nervous energy spread throughout his body, evaporating the exhaustion and replacing it with keen awareness and, if he were to be honest with himself, a deep sense of arousal. He fished the pick into the lock, perhaps not as deftly as she would have done but, effective nonetheless. Jack pushed the door open slowly and stepped into his darkened flat. 

It happened in an instant. He had turned to close the door when a weight slammed his chest against it. A small but very strong hand twisted his right arm behind him and he felt something very hard pressing at his left flank. "Break and enter, Robinson. I'm afraid I won't be able to look the other way, this time." Her voice was stern but sultry and her breath ghosted over the back of his neck and ear in a way that would have rendered him absolutely helpless - if he wasn't already. 

Phryne held her breath. Unsure of how long Jack would be willing to go along with this charade, she decided that enticing him right from the start was her best chance at prolonging the game. She quickly dispatched of his hat, overcoat and suit jacket before forcing her heavy boot between his feet and spreading him eagle against the door. She lifted on to her tiptoes and spoke directly into his ear, "It has come to my attention that you may be concealing a very dangerous weapon. I'm afraid I'll have to search you... thoroughly."

Jack tried to strangle the moan that had come up in his throat at her last words. It was no good giving her the advantage this early but, he was having trouble forming a coherent thought - much less a strategy.

Starting from his wrists and working in toward his torso, she caressed and stroked, pulling swift, sucking breaths from him, as she reached his waist. Then, very unsatisfactorily for Jack's way of thinking, she abandoned the direction. Still facing the door, he could not see where she had gotten to - all he knew was that she had left his body was aching for her touch. Suddenly, he felt her deft hands at his ankles and a whimper escaped his lips. Phryne had crouched down behind him and slid her hands up the legs of his trousers, deftly undoing his sock garters. She slowly worked her way up his muscled legs and paid particular attention to the backs of his knees, where her ministrations made him shiver. When she reached his thighs, he groaned in pleasure and arched his head backwards and she had to stifle her own vocal response before she revealed the current intensity of her own desire. If he sensed how ready she was, the game would be over before it had begun. But, Phryne needn't have worried - he knew this had to be one of her games but, every time he attempted to form his mouth around a question, her deft hands left him speechless.

There was little Phryne loved more than working Jack into a state of absolute frenzy so, she ignored the ache inside her and took her time, delivering the tortuous search she promised. When she finally traced his arousal through his trousers, he shuddered and was unable to clamp down on a violent moan. "You'll be the death of me, Phryne." She bit down on a satisfied smile before composing herself enough to correct him. "You may call me Detective Fisher," she admonished, ignoring his confusion. "I think it's time you answered a few questions."

She led him over to the breakfast table, which had been pulled out to the center of the small kitchenette and sat him down roughly in the chair before flicking on the light. Jack's eyes were wide, seeing her for the first time this evening. Phryne watched him hungrily. She saw the realization sink in and delighted in the shock that ran through him like a jolt of electricity, causing him to convulse in the chair.

 _Oh Christ!_ Miss Fisher was in a policewoman's uniform - albeit a uniform, the likes of which he had never seen. The fallout from the Fletcher-Sanderson case had carried on for months, obliterating nearly everything else in its wake. He, himself, had even forgotten about Phryne's brief mention of dressing as a policewoman at the convent. Clearly, she had remembered the conversation akong with his flustered reaction. He couldn't help damning just how well she knew him. Jack's mouth gaped as his eyes roamed down the line of shiny buttons that punctuated her plush coat from her clavicle to past her navel, leading to the heavy leather belt slung low on her hips that holstered a constable's baton and... _what was clinking behind her? Oh God._

"Where did you...?" He could hardly think.  
"I have my sources," she answered cagily, as a satin clad finger traced the line of his jaw. "I seem to recall you liking the idea. And, I'll be the one asking the questions." As if to emphasize this point, she pulled the baton from her belt and skimmed it along the length of his thigh, making him squirm in his seat. Jack made to grab it but she anticipated him and backed away quickly. "Uh-uh. Hands flat on the table if you please. Where I can see them."  
"Or else?" he growled.  
"Or else, I'll leave you here. All... alone." 

Grudgingly, Jack splayed his trembling hands on the table, cursing these games she favored.  
Her mouth twisted slightly, satisfied that he would play for a bit longer. Phryne assumed her usual repose - perched on the edge of the table in front of him - crossing her legs to push open the slit of her plush skirt and reveal a black lace stockinged knee.  
"Why don't you tell me what you were doing here this evening?"

Jack cleared his throat. His throat was awfully dry. Inadvertently, his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. She had not missed it. Feeling rather warm herself, she poured them both a glass of water from the pitcher she had left on the table. He squinted at her, over his glass, trying to size up the situation. He could refuse to play along - she would probably stay anyway. Though, he could imagine her disappointment. _And your own - though you would prefer not to admit it,_ remarked the part of Jack's brain that now spoke in Miss Fisher's annoyingly accurate voice. True. His mouth drew down as he made his decision.

"I was coming home from a long day. My only intention was to go directly to sleep."  
"So why the need for this?" She held up the lock pick. When had she liberated that from his waistcoat pocket?  
"Someone changed the locks on my door."  
"That hardly seems likely. Who would have done such a thing?"  
"I suppose it was perpetrated by someone seeking an advantage." For someone who had never been on the accused's side of the interrogation desk, Jack certainly knew his way around evasive answers.  
She shifted gears. "I understand you are involved with a woman of some social standing, Robinson." 

Jack wished she would stop calling him by his surname. The authority with which she said it was giving him butterflies in his stomach and weakening his resistance - and he was sure she knew it somehow.  
"I don't see how that's relevant," he dodged.  
Detective Fisher descended from the table and began to slowly pace around him, circling her prey. "From what I hear, it's quite the torrid affair."  
He smirked at this, thinking that even the wildest rumors he had heard could never measure up to reality. "It is. Though, I don't consider it an 'affair'."  
She arched an eyebrow at this, wanting to answer him with a smug reply but couldn't help herself, "Tell me about her. She's rich, isn't she?"  
"And beautiful." The detective rolled her eyes.  
"Taken in by a pretty face?" she taunted. "I didn't take you for such a push over, Robinson." She was back on the table, glaring down at him in mock disbelief.  
"Afraid not. She's everything I never wanted."  
Phryne - Detective Fisher - barked a laugh at this but, Jack continued in a deep, steadfast voice that captivated her.  
"It's true. She is polarizing. I was pulled to her before I even knew what was happening. And every time I think it's impossible to desire her more than I already do, she proves me wrong." His electric gaze locked directly on to hers and she felt herself falter for the first time.  
"S-so, you expect me to believe that you were to spend the night - alone in your flat - sleeping?"  
"Not anymore." His voice was thick with want and she gave a tremble at the sound.

He stood up with force and crushed his mouth to hers, one hand at the back of her head for control and the other at her back, stroking the sumptuous fabric of her coat. Dropping all pretense for a moment, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer. Knowing she wanted him to deepen the kiss, he held back. Not until she uttered a small moan into his mouth did he allow his tongue to slowly caress hers and tickle the roof of her mouth, suggesting that he was quite good at tickling other things with that particular appendage. She allowed him the upper hand and melted into him, wondering if he had ever kissed anyone else the way he kissed her - and hoped not.


	3. Chapter 3

Jack carried her into his bedroom, where they landed on the bed in a tangled heap, quickly vanquishing shoes, boots and Detective Fisher's hat before returning to the heat of each others' mouths. Trembling fingers flew to the brass buttons on her collar and managed to free several before she quieted his hands with her own. "I'll do it, shall I?" Phryne asked in her deadliest voice. He could only manage a nod, his throat tight with desire. "Alright," she agreed. "But, you, first." He did not protest as she backed him up to the headboard and sat between his outstretched legs on the mattress. Jack thrilled when she undressed him. It reminded him of every single time she had ever brushed the shoulders of his jacket, smoothed his lapels or adjusted his tie - back when he felt the need to repress his longing for her. The tension this act still created in him was more powerful than any aphrodisiac, knowing that he could now touch her however he pleased. 

His eyes glittered as she rose up on her knees in front of him so, she was a head taller than he.  
"I'm afraid that attempting to bribe an officer of the law has left you in dire straits, Robinson," she said smoothly, picking up the game right where she had left off. Leaning over him, she swept her hands down his arms.  
"Bribe?" he asked in confusion. In his reverie, he had forgotten about the game. He also had not noticed that she had retrieved something heavy from the back of her belt - until he felt the first circlet enclose over the shirtsleeve at his wrist. His eyes widened. Phryne could feel his heart pounding in his chest, elevated by nerves but also - yes, she was sure of it - excitement.  
"Yes. You attempted to trade sexual favors for your release." she mock-accused him. "I have no choice but to take you into custody."  
 _**click**_ went the second cuff, binding his wrists behind him and tethering him to the bed frame.  
"I'm not entirely comfortable with this," he ground out.  
"That's the idea, Jack," she whispered, lips brushing his ear. "Do you trust me?"

Jack swallowed hard, considering all that was to be forfeited and all that was to be gained by how he chose to answer this question. Breaking the long silence, his small whisper seemed to ring like a bell. "Yes." Phryne had hoped for this response but felt deeply honored all the same and captured him in a soulful kiss that she hoped conveyed her feelings. Judging by the way he kissed her back, it did. She made sure he was comfortable and bolstered his back with pillows before returning to the game.

When she knelt back up, her eyes blazed fire. Satin fingers stroked the sensitive skin below his jaw as they made their way to his collar. A moan sounded loudly from the back of his throat and he seemed surprised at the noise though, she was not. In the past months, Phryne had been intent on discovering as many of the Inspector's most intimate secrets as possible - which included the symphony of sounds she could coax from him. Because he was so naturally reserved, each one felt like a precious gift to her ears and she idly wondered if she was the only one who had ever heard them.

Tugging to release its tail from his waistcoat, she loosened Jack's tie, undoing the knots and twists at an achingly slow pace. "Here we go again, Jack," she teased. She relished the gasps as his breath caught and noticed how his jaw clenched in a fight for self-control when she brushed her fingertips quite unnecessarily under his chin. _The tie. Always the tie,_ she thought and smiled to herself over the distraction of Jack's shifting hips when, into her head, popped the ludicrous notion that Jack Robinson would be old and grey and still get rock hard when delicate fingers were at his throat. _Her fingers._ Snapping herself out of that very beautiful, very disturbing thought very quickly, she dropped the tie to the floor. She deftly undid the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, pushing them both back over his shoulders where they created a kind of straightjacket, pooling below his elbows. 

She couldn't help taking a playful bite of his right shoulder once it was so gloriously exposed and decided that his singlet was deeply offending her by getting in the way of his naked skin. But with the darbys at his wrists, she wouldn't be able to remove it properly. _Oh, that's an idea,_ she thought and pulled away from him, much to his frustration - until he saw her lift her skirt. He could barely form words at this point but he managed, "Off!"

Phryne turned her face to his in surprise but could not repress the greedy grin that spilled across her face at his command. "You're not really in the position to make demands, Robinson. But as it stands, it _is_ in my way." She slowly undid the line of brass buttons that trailed the length of her coat, letting the rich fabric hang open to reveal the pale curves beneath. She couldn't help but smile a the groan that escaped him at the sight of her. The heavy leather belt clunked to the floor next and was followed by a swish as her fingers found the hidden buttons on the inside of the skirt. If Jack was rendered speechless before, he might be mute for days after the velvet dropped from her hips to reveal that she had not been wearing any knickers underneath - only her lacy black stockings and garters. She continued to smile sweetly as she listened to the metal of the darbys rattle against the headboard in futility and heard him curse her name.

Something pearly white glinted high up on her thigh as she climbed back onto the bed, peeling off her satin gloves. Very carefully but, swiftly all the same, she pulled the blade from between the delicate lace and her creamy flesh and pointed it at Jack's waistband. Where his chest was rising and falling a moment ago at the sight of her, all movement stopped as his breath froze in his lungs. Pulling the hem of his singlet taut, she warned, "Steady, now, Robinson. No sudden moves." They locked eyes for a moment before dropping their gazes down to the glinting blade.

The sharp knife tore through the fabric with a terrific ripping sound as she sliced from hem to hem. The singlet hung in two pieces like curtains in front of Jack's chest and was easily dispatched over his shoulders, following the wake of his shirt. The appearance of the blade had sharpened Jack's mind in a way that only a fellow detective would have understood. His eyes followed her hand on the pearly hilt. "Nothing like a little danger to steady the mind. Eh, Inspector?" With that, she turned and expertly threw the knife so the blade buried itself into Jack's bureau, where the scar on the wood would be a permanent reminder of this moment for years to come.

He suddenly found his voice. "How did you learn to do that?" The gleam in his eye had not gone unnoticed. The answer to his question was simple (not everything involved Portuguese sailors, after all). Phryne simply shrugged, "Practice."

"Speaking of which," she purred as she pushed him back against the pillows, "There is another skill I'm in need of honing."  
Jack coughed to cover the gasp that escaped him as she trailed warm lips down his torso. His heart was beating thunderously against his ribcage and he could barely hear his own strained reply over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, "And what would that be?"

The deadly smooth voice in which she spoke next told him he was in serious trouble. "Well, in the course of our previous interrogations, I've had some invaluable insights." Phryne punctuated her words with tortuous strokes of her hands and mouth on his burning flesh. "For example, I know that this will make you moan." She laved his nipple, grazing it with her teeth and he arched up to her, the delicious sound echoing in his throat. "And I know this will make you gasp." She trailed her nails up the back of his muscular legs, pausing to stroke the backs of his knees. His breath caught and he squirmed beneath her. 

When her expert hands shimmied him out of his trousers and shorts, he realized he was completely at her mercy. Phryne watched as the gravity of the situation dawned on him and she braced him with a searing gaze. "But, what I want, Robinson. What I really want... is to hear you scream." Jack thought he might actually black out from the trifecta of her words, her touch and his complete helplessness.

She continued to work his body, taking her time, revisiting the sensitive places she already knew and exploring in search of new ones, all the while drawing out the sounds of his need for her. Jack thought he must have died and gone to heaven - or hell, he wasn't sure which - as Phryne brought him right to the edge of ecstasy before expertly backing off and winding him up all over again until he was a quivering mass, unable to even plead her name. When she finally decided he had had enough, Phryne sank down on top of him in one smooth motion, causing Jack to moan and arch up as far as his bonds would allow. His hips bucked uncontrollably beneath her and she felt the tiniest bit of remorse for making him suffer so but, she would see to it that his reward was all the greater for it. It wouldn't be long, now. With a few artful strokes, she had him on the precipice once more. The angles of his countenance pulled so sharp, they could cut steel. He was close.

"Jack," she breathed. He opened his eyes in time to see her arching herself backwards over his legs. She still wore the inky black coat, though it was hanging open, revealing everything to his hungry eyes. Her ivory skin was gorgeously flushed with her desire for him, droplets of sweat glistened and pooled, sending tiny rivulets down her body. He longed to reach out for her, hold her - this wild thing. He had given her everything he had: his trust, his heart, his body, even his mind, simply because she asked it of him. Not in so many words, of course. But, she demanded of him what no one ever had. Everything. Her body was contorted over his, connecting them, joining with him at a place deep within his very soul. She was so tight around him, the sensation so incredible. He saw the fire, white hot in his vision, before he felt it. The flames exploded from the point they were joined and slowly consumed him, inch by inch, causing his body to seize and convulse and come with a violence he had never known. He loved her. Somewhere in Jack's mind, he heard someone calling for her. Whoever it was needed her. They were desperately screaming her name. _Phryne!_

She caught a glimpse of his face as he watched her twist her body over him. His eyes, dark with lust but, with a warmth he reserved only for her. His strong, lithe body was bound by hers, captured at the wrists by metal, at the ankles where she had grasped for stability in her contorted pose and also where she had joined them together. He was so beautiful. And he loved her, she knew. _Everything I never wanted,_ his words came back to her and she smiled. She had never expected Jack Robinson. Never expected to want to need someone ever again. Not after all the hurt. And yet, here she was, giving him everything she had, simply because he had never demanded it of her. She felt him let go. Felt him burn in his release and was astonished at the intensity. She could feel it pulling her over the edge with him. When she heard the hoarse cry escape him, she could scarcely believe it. She was only half-kidding with her silly demand. Jack Robinson wasn't the sort of man who would let his guard down enough to scream like that. Was he? But, _he had_ and it was her name on his lips that vibrated across the cool air of the room, through her skin and into her very centre as she came. She loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking there might be another chapter in this - you know, just to wrap it up. Thanks for the lovely comments & kudos!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [She was everything he'd never wanted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404558) by [Whilenotwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whilenotwriting/pseuds/Whilenotwriting)




End file.
